The dragon had been attacking Camelot for days. Arthur didn't know where it had come from, nor why it had chosen this time to make its move. All he could think about was the billowing smoke smothering any hope of oxygen, fire licking at the remnants of homes in the lower town, reducing everything to ash. Behind him, a few brave souls were attempting to salvage what they could, but it was utterly hopeless. If this was to continue, the entire city would be burnt, blackened until all that was left was a dark scorch on the ground.

"I know you're tired, but make one last effort for me. Every shot must count!" he shouted to his warriors, racing through the broken streets towards the roars of the creature causing such utter destruction with absolutely no sign of mercy. It were scenes like these that reminded him of the evils of magic, how it could be twisted to form such terrifying shapes. He vaguely thought of Merlyn, who had spent her time divided between the infirmary and fighting alongside the knights, but he'd barely said a word to her in two days. He hoped she wasn't hurt, but between the smoke and firelight, it was hard to know anything anymore.

His questions were answered when he met her on the battlements, a bow strapped to her back, her face covered in a mixture of ash and mud. She spotted him through the crowd of sweaty knights, expertly weaving her way between them until she was at his side.

"I'm sorry you're having to do this." she muttered, wiping a few strands of matted hair from her face. She was the epitome of despair, wincing at a long, shallow cut tearing the skin of his arm.

Arthur eyed her curiously. "Why? You're not to blame." he stated, a loud growl filling the night air. The sky was cloudy, the smoke hanging in the air merging with water vapour, creating a thick fog. Pinpricks of light penetrated the greyness, almost beautiful if it wasn't for the fact that the flames were from burning houses rather than thousands of sparkling candles. Above them, the moon shone brightly, illuminating the shadow of a large, winged creature, flying high, heading straight to the citadel.

"Flame up!" The Prince ordered, watching as fifty knights lit their arrows, aiming through the turrets in the direction of the great beast. Merlyn stayed beside him, making no move to follow his instructions, knowing his need for emotional support was more than any chance she had at killing the dragon with an arrow. He was fairly certain that it would take more than fire and wood to break the creature, but he had to try.

"Stay strong! Tonight is not the night you die, I'll make sure of that." Arthur's words were empty, but he was reassured by Merlyn's presence behind him, the crossbow in his hands almost weightless as his heart thudded quickly in his chest. The ghostly expressions on his men's faces were terrified: this wasn't the first time they'd tried to at least mame the dragon. Nothing seemed to work, no mortal weapon able to make a dent in its scales. But they couldn't accept defeat, not when the lives of so many rested on them.

"Hold firm!" He watched the dragon swoop closer, its menacing teeth glinting in the firelight. Snarling into its golden eyes, the Prince waited for it to come even closer, ignoring the fear running through his veins.

"Now!" he roared, letting his arrow fly, despairing as he watched it bounce off its scales. For a moment, he thought the bolt had glowed blue, but he dismissed the notion, focusing more on the ball of fire aimed at him and his knights. Dragging Merlyn down by the hem of her tunic, he felt the flames singe the hair on the back of his neck, glad to see that his men, although petrified, had at least survived. That was more than could be said for most of those who had fought in the last couple of days.

∆

There were many things that Merlyn considered Gwen to be. A good friend, wise, at times, and brave. She'd never thought her stupid, not, at least, until she watched the woman fetching water from the well in the middle of a dragon attack.

"Clear the square!" Arthur commanded, his focus shifting to the dragon flying high above their heads. Merlyn ran straight to her friend, ready to shield her from Kilgharrah, the prick.

"Gwen!" she shouted, but glancing at the sky, realised that the dragon was diving, descending fast, directly towards the maidservant. "Guinevere!" she tried again, but her friend appeared entirely panicked, unable to move. Grabbing her hand, they raced through the rubble to the safety of the castle, when she heard the Prince's voice.

"Behind you!" he sounded desperate, but Merlyn didn't need to look back to know that the dragon was heading straight for her. So much for gratitude.

She pulled Gwen to the floor, the dragon missing them by inches. Pushing the blacksmith's daughter inside the castle walls, a bucket of water in tow, she scanned the courtyard just in time to see Arthur disappear. She'd lost her sword at some point, but there was an abandoned spear left by the well. She'd already tried to enchant the Prince's arrow, to no effect, but perhaps she could try another spell.

"Flēogé."

The spear glowed a ghostly blue, but simply bounced of the dragon's scales, dropping back to the earth.

"Don't imagine that your petty magic can harm me." Kilgharrah sneered, climbing higher into the sky. Merlyn cried out in anguish, throwing a rock at the creature. Unsurprisingly, it had little effect.

"Why are you doing this? You're killing innocent people." she shouted incredulously at the beast, but earned no reply. Kicking the fallen spear across the ground, she headed back into the castle, resolving to help Gaius with the wounded.

∆

Gaius was the first to see the witch, checking for injuries as he shuffled towards her. "Are you hurt?" he asked, fiddling absentmindedly with the bandage in his hand.

"There's nothing I can do." Merlyn whispered, ignoring the question. Other than a few scrapes, she was fine, especially when there were people with blistering skin, caked with mud and dirt, howling throughout the room. "My magic is no good. It doesn't work."

"Dragon's aren't monsters, they're creatures of wonder and magic. You must realise that they're immune to your powers." Gaius frowned, exhaling sharply. There was little either of them could do at that moment, not with so many injuries. Nobody got any sleep that night.

∆

"The dead number forty-nine men, twenty-seven women, a further eighteen women and children are unaccounted for. Most of last night's fires are now out. The castle walls, in particular the western section, are near to collapse. I could go on." Arthur sighed, ignoring the ache in his muscles. This was the longest that he'd had to stand still in hours; fatigue was slowly creeping up on him.

Uther sighed dramatically, pacing the length of the council chambers. "Do we have any further ideas on how the beast escaped?"

Leon shook his head. "I regret to say, sire, we don't." Arthur thought it had been stupid anyway, keeping a dragon under the castle. He hadn't even known it was there until his father had mentioned it, but it didn't seem the safest place. The beast should've been slaughtered with the rest of its kind.

"There must be some way to rid us of this aberration." the King contemplated aloud, looking around the room. Arthur collapsed in a chair at the table, unable to stand a moment longer. He watched gloomily as the wise men of the council adverted their gaze, unable to find a solution for the problem. Uther's gaze flickered to each of his advisors, before finally resting on the physician. "Gaius?"

The man looked hesitant, but he unfolded his arms, glancing quickly at Merlyn, who stood beside him, before returning his attention to Uther. "We need a Dragonlord, sire."

"You know very well that's not an option." The King dismissed Gaius' idea, which was a shame. Arthur had always been fascinated by the power of Dragonlords, curious to see what they'd be like, even if they were magic.

"Sire, what if there was indeed one last Dragonlord left?" The physician questioned, his eyes flickering between Merlyn and the King. The Prince suddenly felt like he was missing something, but couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was.

"That's not possible." Uther turned to the window, lost in his thoughts.

"But if there was?"

The King narrowed his eyes, slowly approaching the physician. "What are you saying?"

"It may just be a rumour." Gaius muttered, glancing again at Merlyn.

Uther waved away his excuses. "Go on."

"I'm not exactly sure, but I think his name is Balinor." The physician murmured, barely loud enough for the Prince to hear. The name seemed to trigger something in the room, a utter silence stilling the air. Uther had turned deathly white, trembling slightly, as if he were about to fall to the floor. Strangely enough, Merlyn seemed to be having a similar reaction, clutching at the wall next to where she stood, staring at the physician as if he had just sprouted another head.

"Balinor." Uther whispered, looking between Gaius and Arthur's servant. The Prince knew he couldn't let this strange mood continue, not if they were going to get anywhere with saving Camelot.

"Where does he live?" he asked, glad to see the King returning to reality.

Gaius looked at the Prince with an expression he couldn't quite interpret. "He was last seen in Cenred's kingdom. In the border town of Engerd. But that was many years ago."

Arthur stood, ignoring the tiredness in his bones. "If this man still exists, then it is our duty to find him."

"Our treaty with Cenred no longer holds. We are at war." Uther looked troubled, unable to look Arthur in the eyes. "If you're discovered beyond the border, they'd kill you."

"I'll go alone."

"No." The King shook his head.

"That way I won't be detected." Arthur suggested, but Uther still refused.

"It's too dangerous." The King sighed, running his hand through his hair.

Arthur fought the urge to roll his eyes. "More dangerous than staying here?" he argued, unable to believe what his father was saying. "I won't let my men die when I have the chance save them."

"I've given you my orders." Uther warned, but the Prince had learned never to give up this easily.

"Do not make this a test of wills, father." he replied calmly, wondering what it would take for Uther to see sense.

"I'm not talking to you as a father, I'm talking to you as a King!"

Arthur nodded sadly, walking straight passed the man he admired so much, who had just lost the woman he saw as a daughter. "I'll ride immediately. I will send word when I've found him."

∆

Merlyn hadn't spoken a word since she'd returned to the physician's quarters, packing for her trip with Arthur in deadly silence. "He's alive." Merlyn finally said, very quietly, her hands balled at her side. She didn't understand, couldn't even begin to comprehend why the physician hadn't told her. If there was truly a glimmer of hope, she wished that she had known.

Gaius gave her a long, sad look. "I wasn't certain, I didn't want to get your hopes up-"

"You had no right." she fixed her icy glare on the man she'd long thought of as a father figure. "You had no right to keep this from me."

The physician was quiet for a long time, at least having the decency to look ashamed of himself. "There were once men who could talk to dragons, tame them. Uther believed that the art of the Dragonlord was too close to magic, so he had them all rounded up and slaughtered. I was trying to save you from the same fate."

"Gaius, he was my father. Why did nobody ever tell me that he was alive? How is he still alive? I saw him..." she trailed off, looking out the window onto the smoking city below. "I saw him die."

The physician shook his head. "Merlyn, I promised your mother that I would never speak of these things. I believe that she feared that it would be too dangerous."

"I had a right to know." she whispered, wiping a tear from her face.

"She wanted to protect you. I wanted to protect you." Gaius gave her a pleading look, but the witch wasn't ready to forgive him yet.

"No." she shook her head vigorously. "I had a right to know."

∆

Merlyn didn't know what to feel, but as she prepared the horses, buckling provisions onto the saddle, she felt Gaius' presence behind her. She didn't turn to greet him, focusing on the task in hand, refusing to acknowledge the man who had known that her father, who she had mourned for the best part of a decade, was still alive.

"Have you got everything you need?" The physician questioned, the concern in his voice faltering Merlyn's anger. She'd never been very good at holding a grudge for very long, especially with those she cared about.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." she sighed, her face creased in a sincere frown.

Gaius gave her a weary look. "I know that. But you were right. I should've told you."

Merlyn nodded, but couldn't reply. Arthur descended the steps from the castle, chiding her for her lateness.

"You're ready?" she asked the Prince, who was almost always late for these missions, probably wanting to look his best as he rode through the streets, heroically trying to save his people.

"No thanks to you." he grumbled, but the servant chose to ignore it, narrowing her eyes as she watched him wince in pain. Clearly the injury she'd seen during the dragon attack was worse than it had seemed.

"Are you okay?" she asked, climbing onto her own horse.

Arthur nodded. "Just a scratch." He trotted off, understandably impatient to save his people.

Merlyn was about to follow, when Gaius stopped her horse, putting his hand on the reigns. "Merlyn, whatever happens, you must not let Arthur know who this man is. Uther may know who you are, but the Prince has not known a time where Dragonlords were free. He may not take the news kindly."

The witch didn't roll her eyes, but she was very close to doing so. She hadn't managed to let the fact that she was the daughter of a Dragonlord slip in the last two years or so; she reckoned that she could manage the next couple of days.

∆

They arrived in an inn just over the border at twilight, rain cascading down around them. Tying up their horses securely, they headed into a tavern, the jovial laughter a relief after a hard day's ride. Arthur walked in first, followed by his servant, the laughter stopping abruptly at their entrance. The Prince felt all eyes upon him, which was odd. In Camelot, people didn't stop drinking to stare at newcomers.

"Greetings!" he beamed cheerily, only to be kicked discreetly by Merlyn. Evidently that wasn't the right response. A beefy bald man, his beady eyes on Arthur, pulled a sharp knife out of where it had been stuck in the table. This wasn't the friendliest place the Prince had ever been.

They eventually got served, the owner 'accidentally' spilling Arthur's mug, whilst Merlyn's drink was poured much more carefully. The Prince didn't like the way that people were eying his servant; he almost wanted to kiss her senseless just to show the men, and some of the women actually, that she was off limits. Of course, he wouldn't, he was too noble for that. And Merlyn would probably hit him, or stab him, or both. Instead, he decided to get on with the mission.

"We're looking for a man named Balinor." he looked up at the tavern owner, trying to muster as much authority as he could whilst still sopping wet from the rain. "I'm willing to pay handsomely."

Arthur put a large bag of coins on the table, much to Merlyn's protests. Mumbling something about finding out information before paying the man, she put her head in her hands, groaning in annoyance. The innkeeper glanced around the room, as if he were about to say something secretive, leaning closer to the Prince.

"Never heard of him." he smirked, taking the bag of coins from the table. The servant banged her head on the table, cursing Arthur's stupidity.

"You think one of these men is Balinor?" she asked, raising her eyebrow at the Prince, who currently felt like a fool.

Arthur sighed. "I hope not."

"So do I." Merlyn nodded as she scanned the room, as if she were looking for a familiar face. Shaking his head in mild misery, the Prince downed his drink, standing to ask the barmaid for another.

∆

They had twin beds, which was fine, but part of Merlyn wanted to cuddle up next to Arthur, share his warmth on the chilly night. She was lost in thought, wondering if her father could've changed since she'd last seen him. She still remembered the night so vividly, Uther's men surrounding the village, advancing on their little house at the edge of the fields. Hunith hadn't been there, she remembered vividly that her mother had tried to drag her along to Will's house, but she had insisted on staying with her father, wanting to perfect a certain stance or a move... She didn't really remember; it didn't really matter, she supposed. Her father had been the first to see the torchlight, screaming that she went inside, that she hid, that, whatever happened, she would do her best to survive. She remembered the red banners, Uther and a band of knights advancing on her father, who, rather than fleeing into the night, held his ground. He didn't even fight, just let two men grab him by the arms, forcing him to the ground in front of the man he'd once been proud to call his King. She couldn't hear what had been said, but she remembered Uther's face in the torchlight, so calm, but she could see his confliction. Balinor had never taught her to hate Uther, and deep down, she didn't think Camelot's King really hated her father, hence the reason that she was still alive, but Uther had declared war on the Dragonlords and he couldn't make exceptions. When she'd seen the axe glinting in the moonlight, she realised that she couldn't hide anymore. There must have been a hundred knights surrounding her father, Uther evidently not expecting him to give up so easily, but she must have at least injured maybe forty before she was apprehended, turning to see her father's body lying on the floor, his head a few feet away. She'd screamed, then, howled into the night, but something had kept her magic at bay. She'd never been particularly good at controlling it, but in that moment, her survival instincts appeared to overshadow any thought of throwing the red cloaks back, her grief overwhelming. She'd been made to stand in front of the King, refusing to kneel, glaring insolently into Uther's despairing face.

He'd let her go, declaring that she wasn't a threat, nor the target. It hadn't stopped a few of his men try to claim revenge for his fallen friends, but they didn't come close to finishing her. She often wondered, out of the men who had survived the encounter, how many of them still remembered the wild girl from Ealdor, or if it was blended with their other memories of slaughtered sorcerers. If any of them had made the connection with her, they hadn't mentioned it. Perhaps she had a few allies after all.

"What is wrong with you today?" Arthur scowled from his bed, cleaning some mud from his boots.

"What?" she muttered, ripping herself from her thoughts, turning to look at the Prince.

Arthur gave her a strange look. "It pains me to admit it, but I do enjoy your surly retorts. In fact, it's probably your only redeemable feature."

"I love you too." she said flatly, staring up at the ceiling.

The Prince chose to ignore this comment. "There are plenty of servants that can serve, but so few are capable of making a complete prat of themselves."

Merlyn threw a sock at Arthur, but he just laughed. "What is it?" he asked, sounding almost a little concerned.

"Nothing."

"It's something, tell me." he looked towards her, his eyes so earnest. She didn't deserve him, she really didn't. When she didn't reply, the Prince just smiled. "Alright, I know I'm a prince so we can't be friends, but if I wasn't a prince-"

"What?"

"Well, then I think we'd probably get on."

Merlyn paused. "So?"

"So that means you can tell me." Arthur sounded a little triumphant, and that made the servant's heart thump a little louder in her chest.

"That's true, but if you weren't a prince, I'd tell you to mind your own business."

"Merlyn!" Arthur exclaimed, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing. "Are you missing Gaius?"

"Something like that." she murmured, her eyes glistening with tears.

"Well what is it then?" The Prince threw his pillow at his servant, in a rather unnoble manner if anyone bothered to ask her.

She sighed. "I'll tell you. I'm worried about everyone in Camelot. I hope they're alright."

"So do I." Arthur replied, blowing out the candle after blowing her a kiss. Merlyn stared into the darkness, before realising something.

"What do you mean we could be friends? Arthur, I sleep in your bed every other night, in my experience, that constitutes as more than friends. What exactly do you do with your knights? Should I be jealous of Sir Leon?"

The Prince let out a hollow laugh. "Go to sleep, Merlyn."

"That's not exactly reassuring." she mumbled, but followed his instructions anyway.

∆

Arthur wasn't a very light sleeper, but these beds weren't exactly to the same standard as his own in Camelot. So when the door creaked open, he managed to fumble for his dagger, grabbing the scoundrel by the neck and tossing him onto the bottom of Merlyn's bed.

"What's going on?" his servant exclaimed, glaring at the Prince.

He ignored her. "Do you know what the punishment is for theft?" he asked the strange man, pointing his dagger directly at the thief's throat.

"Please, I've got children." the man begged, but Arthur really wasn't in the mood. He'd heard these stories before, but last time he'd acted harshly, his kingdom was without food for days.

"Tell me where to find Balinor. What do you know of him?" he asked, digging his knife into skin.

"Nothing... I-" the thief squeaked, his eyes fixed on the dagger.

"Do you value your life?" Arthur questioned, leisurely stroking the tip of the knife across the man's throat.

This time, he was a little more forthcoming. "It's been years since I saw him."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"You must travel through the forest of Merendra, to the foot of Feorre mountain. There you will find the cave in which Balinor dwells." the thief looked between Arthur and Merlyn as the Prince withdrew his dagger. "But don't get your hopes up."

"Why?" Merlyn frowned.

"He will not welcome you. Balinor hates everyone and everything. A cave's the best place for him." the thief spat, running through the open door to the room before either the servant or the Prince had a chance to answer.

∆

They had an early start, but Merlyn could tell that Arthur hadn't had enough rest. He wasn't well; the way he was wincing gave away his pain.

"It's alright." he protested as the servant glanced back at him, raising her eyebrow in a way that would make Gaius proud.

"It's the wound. Let me have a look." she brought the horses just off the path, pealing back Arthur's tunic to look at the 'scratch'. It was worse than she'd thought, travelling up the back of his arm and down the shoulder blade. Flinching at the sight of it, she had no time to say anything before she heard a noise on the path.

"Get down." she hissed, forcing the Prince behind a log. Peering over it, she saw a few of Cenred's men, heavily armed, striding through the woods.

"Arthur." she whispered, only to get no reply. She shook him, but realised that he was unconscious. What a prat.

Securing him to his horse, they made it to the foot of the mountain in good time, but Merlyn couldn't take Arthur any further, not without carrying him. She couldn't take him far, so her best bet was to find Balinor first. I'd he was really here at all.

"Hello?" she shouted into the only cave she could find, listening to her voice echo through the rocks. Heading further inside, she found what looked like a hovel in-between the craggy rocks, candles littering the floor. She was so caught up in her hope, that she almost missed the footsteps coming up behind her, but managed to dodge the knife heading towards her just in time. Instinctively, she plucked it out of the air as it sailed past, possibly slowing time a little to make it possible, and swung around, bringing it towards her attacker. In the dark, she wasn't sure if it was her father, but there was no mistaking his voice.

"What do you want here, girl?" he glared, glancing at his dagger in her hand. She didn't intend to use it, but didn't release her tight grip on the weapon.

"My friend, he's sick. He needs help." she said quickly, catching a glimpse of Balinor's face in the faint sunlight shining through the cave. It was one she never thought she would see again, the sharp, green eyes, the dark hair. He needed a good wash, and maybe a haircut, but other than that, he was exactly the same as she remembered.

"What are you waiting for? Fetch him." her father ordered, unable to keep the contempt out of his voice. Her smile faded. He clearly didn't recognise her. Hurrying out of the cave, she sighed. This might be harder than she thought.

∆

Merlyn vaguely recognised the poultice Balinor smoothed over Arthur's chest, but it wasn't one that Gaius often used, so she didn't know some of the ingredients. She didn't ask, not wanting to irritate her father any further, watching as he hovered his hand over the Prince's head.

"Ahlúttre þá séocnes. Þurhhæle bræd."

Now those were old words of healing, something Merlyn knew a little more about. She'd never been very good at healing spells, but she hoped that her time with Gaius would help her learn the old-fashioned way.

"He needs rest." Balinor said gruffly, clearly annoyed that she'd been staring. "He'll be alright by morning."

"Thank you." she smiled uneasily, unsure what else to say.

∆

Merlyn cooked, skinning a rabbit she'd caught and using some of Balinor's supplies to make a reasonable stew. He didn't thank her, but she didn't expect her to as she wordlessly handed him a bowl.

"How long have you lived here?" she asked, breaking the silence which had crept upon them.

"A few winters." he answered shortly, concentrated on the stew.

Merlyn didn't really know what to say. "Must be hard."

"Why are you here?" Balinor questioned rather directly, apparently in no mood for small talk.

The servant decided that it wasn't really the time to ask her father to save Camelot. He had a short temper and his bad moods could last days, but she doubted using her magic to make dragons from fire would cheer him up as much as it had when she was six.

"Just travelling." she paused, realising that something else her father had never liked was lying. "We're looking for someone." she added, her gaze flickering to Arthur for a second, who seemed to be sleeping easily.

"I was told, well, they say he lives around these parts. A man named Balinor. You've ever heard of him?" When her father remained silent, she decided that perhaps he needed a little prompting. "He was a Dragonlord."

"He's passed on." Balinor dismissed the matter, but Merlyn was too stubborn to let it go that easily.

"You knew him?"

"Who are you?" Balinor demanded, glaring at his daughter.

The witch wasn't really sure what to say. "I'm Merlyn."

Recognition of the name flashed across her father's features, but he didn't seem to connect the girl in front of him to his lost daughter.

"And him?" he asked, pointing to Arthur.

"He's my master." she replied simply, hoping it would be enough to satisfy the Dragonlord, but, of course, it wasn't.

"His name!"

"His name is... Lancelot." Merlyn let a flicker of a smile play on her lips as she thought of her friend. She wondered where he was now, if he'd proven himself worthy yet. "He's a knight, but a nice one."

"His name is Arthur Pendragon. He's Uther's son." Balinor hissed, setting down his empty bowl.

"Yes." Merlyn stated. What else could she say?

Balinor scoffed. "This is Cenred's kingdom. He's asking for trouble. What do you want from me?"

"The Great Dragon is attacking Camelot." she looked imploringly at the man in front of her, his face expressionless.

"His name is Kilgharrah." he finally said, glaring at the witch as if she'd commited some great sin.

"Yeah, I know, I kind of freed him, but that's not the point. We can't stop him. Only you, a Dragonlord, can." Merlyn spoke quickly, watching Balinor's eyes widen a fraction, before returning to their usual disgruntled dismay.

"He doesn't act blindly. He kills for a reason, vengeance. This is of Uther's making."

Merlyn couldn't believe how much her father had changed. "He's killing innocent people. Women and children."

"Uther pursued me! He hunted me like an animal." he sneered, raising his voice as he stared defiantly at his daughter.

The witch tried to stop tears falling from her eyes. "I know." she whispered, because she did. She saw this man die, and yet, here he was, almost as twisted as Uther himself.

"What do you know about anybody's life, girl? Uther asked me to bring the last dragon to Camelot, to make peace with it, but he did not. He lied to me. He betrayed me, and you want me to protect him?" Balinor snarled, so much like the animal Uther had shaped him to be.

Merlyn had never forgiven the King for killing her father, but she had accepted that she would never be able to get revenge if she wanted the prophecy to occur. "I want you to protect Camelot." she tried, but she saw the anger blazing in Balinor's eyes.

"He killed every one of my kind, I alone escaped."

Merlyn watched him for a moment, saw the hate retreat as he thought of her village. "Where did you go?"

"There's a place called Ealdor. I had a life there. A woman. A good woman. And a child, once, a girl. Ealdor is beyond Uther's realm, but still he pursued me. Why would he not let me be? What was it that I had done that made him want to destroy the life I'd built, abandon the woman and the child that I loved? He attacked the village to try and kill me. I was forced to come here, to this. So I understand how Kilgharrah feels. He's lost every one of his kind, every one of his kin.  You want to know how that feels? Look around, girl. Let Uther die. Let Camelot fall."

Merlyn shook her head slowly. "You want everyone in Camelot to die?"

"Why should I care?" Balinor shrugged haplessly, moving away from the fire.

"What if one of them was your daughter?"

"My daughter has magic, if she's even still alive, she'd never step foot in Camelot." Balinor then paused, staring at her for a moment. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, when Arthur coughed in his sleep.

"Merlyn." he called out, still very firmly asleep, but it was enough for her father to shut his mouth, retreating further into the cave.

It hadn't been the reunion Merlyn had been planning on, but something in her heart really wasn't surprised.